She began to tremble violently. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. He accepted this confession conditionally: that no young man had kissed her. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell. The shock and distress were genuine. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. “They never seem so at first!” he said. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. ” She assented, smiling. But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures.
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